


Too Close of a Call

by VictoriaAGrey



Series: Sine Metu Vive Add-Ons, Outtakes, and Prompts [1]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Comfort, Daryl goes feral, Love, M/M, Miscommunication, Pray for Glenn, Pray for Tyreese, Pray for anyone within a 20 mile radius of a pissed off Daryl, Rage, Rick doesn't actually die... obviously, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 15:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaAGrey/pseuds/VictoriaAGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story alluded to in At the Heart of It All:</p>
<p>Rick gets scratched, Daryl has a rage black out, and Glenn pays the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Close of a Call

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a stand alone piece. Kudos to you if you can figure out what moment from AtHoIA this story comes from though.

Summer nights in Georgia were predictable in their unpredictability. Most of the time the temperature would drop an average of fifteen to twenty degrees to make for a pleasant night. Other times the temperature would plunge thirty degree and leave everyone scrambling for a blanket or a coat. The only constant was the humidity that left skin feeling sticky beneath a layer of perspiration. Tonight was a cold, humid night that left a nervous Daryl Dixon grabbing for his poncho as he stood sentry on the porch of their current “home.”

Over twenty-four hours had passed since Rick, Glenn, and Abraham had left on a run that should have had them returning after eight. Anxiety was spreading through the group like hometown gossip and it was beginning to prickle at the back of his neck. There were only so many times he could watch a newly pregnant Maggie peek out through the curtains, Rosita twist her hair around her fingers, and Carl circumnavigate the parlor before he cracked. To avoid looking at anyone any longer, Daryl took first watch before dinner was finished.

_Where the hell are you? I swear to God if you’re dead I’ll bring you back just so I can kill you myself. He can’t be dead. I can’t think like that. They probably got held up somewhere. No big deal. They’ll be back soon enough. Rick wouldn’t leave Carl  and Judith behind. Glenn has a pregnant wife. Abraham has Rosita. They’ll be back. They just gathered too many supplies and they had to sort through everything. It’s all going to be okay. Stop thinking bad thoughts for fuck’s sake, Daryl. Jesus._

Two hours after the blood-red sun had set, Daryl saw a car driving up the road in approach to the house. He grabbed his crossbow and hid in the shadows in case the occupants of the car were coming to force a hostile takeover of their territory. _Best to have the advantage if they aren’t friendly._ The car parked in the driveway and the familiar silhouette of Abraham rose out of the driver’s side.

_Thank fuck!_

Daryl’s glee, however, was short lived as he saw the subdued manner in which all three of them moved around the car to get their load out of the trunk. Too much had been gathered for them to be acting in such a way. They should be doing a victory lap rather than acting as if someone had died. As they ascended the steps of the porch, Abraham busied himself with the bags in his hands and Glenn avoided looking in his direction altogether.

“Rick, what the - ”

“Just wait out here for me.”

“Rick - ”

“I said _wait_!” Rick snapped as he shut the door behind him.

_What the fuck was that!? He never talks to me like that. What the fuck is going on!? Why are they acting like that? They wouldn’t even look at me. Did I do something wrong? I couldn’t have. I wasn’t with them. Did they find something? Another group like Terminus? This is bad. I’m going to have to do something, I just don’t know what yet._

As the minutes ticked by and Rick still didn’t emerge from the house, Daryl began to understand what the colloquialism “sands through the hourglass” meant. It felt as if time itself had slowed down to such a rate that he could count the individual grains of sand as they poured into the bottom bulb. Several times he was tempted to ignore Rick’s request – _order_ – to stay outside, especially when he heard the sounds of muffled crying, but he stayed on the porch pacing and biting his thumb nail down to the quick. When Rick finally came out, he sat on the edge of the wood porch railing and leaned against a beam looking grim.

“Ya finally gonna tell me what the hell this is all about?”

Rick looked up to Daryl standing at his side, but said nothing. The grim expression never left his face and Daryl felt a new wave of alarm surge through him when he saw fear seep into his Bombay Sapphire eyes.

“Rick?”

“Daryl.”

“What tha hell happened?”

Before he spoke, Rick bit his lip in a way that normally inspired Daryl to think thoughts that were a far cry from pure. Now it set him on edge.

“I got scratched.”

The world may as well have stopped spinning then for all Daryl cared. All sensation was cancelled out after the initial feeling of what he imagined it must feel like to have a bucket of iced water poured over his head. He was numb to everything and if his knees had not buckled into place, he was certain he would have collapsed. Daryl didn’t often make wishes, but he wished in that moment that he would faint so he could wake up and find out that this was a cruel joke that he could kill Rick for playing.

“Daryl.”

_He’s lying. This is a joke. He’s lying. I know he is. He has to be. It’s not his time yet. It will never be his time. He’s lying._

“Daryl?”

_Why isn’t he admitting he lied? Why would he do this to me? I would never do this to him. Glenn said he’d watch him for me. Stop lying, Rick. Please?_

“Daryl, please say something.”

_Dear God, he’s not lying. He’s scratched. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. I’m going to die. Oh my God. No. No. Why? Why did this happen? Glenn. Glenn! It’s Glenn’s fault! I’m going to kill him._

“Daryl!”

Rick was still moving into a standing position when Daryl threw the front door open with a loud crash and barged into the parlor with no regard for who was watching. He saw Glenn sitting with a teary eyed Maggie on the sofa and plucked him away from her with a brutal grasp on his forearm. With all of his considerable strength he shoved Glenn into the kitchen through the parlor’s adjoining swinging door.

“Daryl! Wait!”

“YOU KILLED HIM! I asked ya ta watch him and _you killed him_! You son of a bitch! _YOU KILLED HIM_!” Daryl screamed in agony as he landed a vicious punch to his chest causing Glenn to crumble to the floor. As he made to lunge on top of him, Daryl was bodily tackled to the ground by Tyreese.

“LEMME GO!”

“NO!”

“Glenn killed him! _YOU KILLED RICK_! YOU KILLED HIM!” he continued to cry out as he struggled against Tyreese’s solid hold around his middle. His back was firmly planted against Tyreese’s chest and no matter how much flailing, squirming, scratching, punching, and kicking he did, Tyreese never let go.

Everyone quickly funneled into the kitchen to take in the carnage that Daryl had caused in his rage. Glenn was still curled up on the floor clutching his chest as a now weeping Maggie attempted to pull him up. The other women looked torn as they reached one arm in Glenn’s direction to help and the other towards Daryl in show of support as the men looked ready to pounce on Daryl if he got loose. Rick quickly forced his way through the crowd and towards Daryl.

“Daryl, I need you to listen to me!”

“YOU KILLED RICK!”

“I’m sorry, Daryl. Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Glenn called towards him as he sat upright.

“DARYL!” Rick shouted as he crouched down just out of reach of his flailing legs.

“YOU KILLED HIM!”

Rick gave a stiff nod to Tyreese over Daryl’s head, which he correctly interpreted for him to clamp his legs down over Daryl’s. Once he did, Rick straddled over both sets of legs as Daryl continued to struggle against his restraints. It did not look as if he was going to stop any time soon so Rick reached out, quick as a viper, to grab the back of his neck and under his jaw. Using every ounce of energy he had, he turned Daryl’s head to face him and clamp his jaw shut so he could no longer scream.

“Daryl, look at me,” he ordered as Daryl still fought his captures. “LOOK AT ME!”

The last command seemed to do the trick as he immediately fell limp in Tyreese’s arms and he stopped trying to force his mouth open. Daryl’s blue eyes were slow to connect with Rick’s, but they eventually did.

“Tyreese is going to let go of you when I tell him to. I need you to promise that you will not attack Glenn when he does so. Can you do that?” Rick loosened his hold enough for Daryl to nod his head.

“’Kay. Tyreese let him go and all of you go into the living room until we are outside,” Rick said in a tone that brokered no argument. Tyreese hesitantly let Daryl go and everyone quietly made their way out of the kitchen. When they had all left, Rick let go of Daryl's head and stood to offer a hand to the thoroughly spent man on the floor. Daryl took it and allowed himself to be led out to the porch unseen by the others. It wasn’t until the nip of the cold air hit him that his brain seemed to come back online. Not that it seemed to do much for him except recount a mantra of _he’s dead_ on repeat.

“I never thought I’d see that Daryl again.”

“What Daryl?”

“The one who is more feral cat than person.”

_That tends to happen when the love of my life tells me he’s going to die._

“Tryin’ ta be funny?” he asked numbly.

Rick sighed loudly into the night as he reclaimed his seat on the porch railing. “No. We need to talk.”

“’Bout what? Can’t do anythin’ about it.”

“True, but there’s a possibility I won’t turn.”

_Is he fucking serious right now?_

“Yeah, and me and Superman were real close before all this.”

“I’m serious. We’re not entirely certain the scratch is from a walker or not.”

“Start talkin’.”

“After we the loaded the supplies into the car we got overrun and we ran into the woods to try and escape the walkers. They were everywhere and at some point I fell to the ground and against the root of a tree. There’s a possibility the scratch came from the tree rather than one of them.”

“Don’t sound like yer too optimistic.”

“I'm being realistic. Carl knows and so do the others. But if I do die - ”

“Stop.”

“If I do die, it’s you and Abraham who are leading. You need to know that.”

_I could never fill your shoes._

“I don’t wanna lead.”

“Too bad. You’ve been my second almost since the beginning. They’ll look to you whether you like it or not.”

Contemplative silence feel between them as Daryl took in all this new information. If Rick died, he would rise to command the group and that was not something he wanted. He never wanted command. Hell, the only reason he was on the council was because Rick asked him to and it helped to field the others away from him when they wanted to bring him back into the fold. There was no way he would be as effective a leader as Rick and the group would fall apart under his lead. And all this was assuming Rick died at all. Daryl didn’t allow himself to reflect on that too much because he didn’t want to get his hopes up for them to be crushed along with his heart.

“Lemme see it.”

“See what?”

“The scratch.”

Rick stood without protest and removed his jacket. He turned his back to Daryl as he unbuttoned his shirt enough to drop it past his shoulders to reveal the bandage on his back. Peeling the bandage off gently, Daryl revealed the scratch that disfigured Rick’s flawless back.

The scratch was raised, irritated, and ugly. It made Daryl’s stomach drop, as he tenderly traced the edges of it, that he could not tell if it was the work of a walker or a tree root. Flecks of bark were lightly dusted along the edges of the scratch that could have occurred either before or after the inciting event. There was no way to tell. It was this realization that made Daryl’s throat close painfully shut and his eyes sting.

“I need ta get some water. Do ya need anythin’?”

“No.”

After quickly putting the bandage back in place, he pulled Rick’s shirt back over his shoulders and walked off the porch as swiftly as possibly without looking like he was running. He wasn’t entirely sure he succeeded but he didn’t care. He had to get away from Rick as quickly as possible. Daryl had barely made it into the shadow of a tree in the backyard before tears started falling down his face.

_I killed him. He’s going to die because I wasn’t there to protect him. It’s my fault Carl and Judith are about to lose their dad. I killed him. Why did I agree to let him go without me? He’s going to die. I love him, and he’s going to die._

Daryl could not recall a time when he had cried harder in his life. The sharp pain of his father’s belt lashing his back had been wretched, but this pain cut far deeper than any of his father’s corporal punishments. He felt as if he had laid eyes upon a seraph and was burning from the inside out. Daryl cradled his watery face in his hands as he fell to his knees, no longer able to hold himself up.

Time escaped him as he fought to regain control of his body. Daryl’s chest ached from his attempts to breath between tears, his face and throat felt swollen, and his hands shook violently when he pulled them away from his face. He felt pathetic for going to pieces like he did, but the best he could do was hide the evidence of what he had done while away from Rick’s side, which is where he should be since he may only have a few hours left with him.

_Get yourself together, Daryl. Fucking hell, he can’t see you like this. He would never love someone so pathetic and weak. Can’t suspect you were CRYING while he was DYING like a real man. Get your shit together._

Slowly he walked to the front of the house and back onto the porch where Rick was sitting in the pale moonlight. He was struck by how beautiful he was with the moon dancing across his face as he gazed expectantly at the moon, as if it could give him the answers to the universe. Rick turned to Daryl when he heard the creaking of the board he stepped on. One penetrative glance was all it took for him to accurately guess what he had been doing and Daryl knew it. He felt ashamed of himself as he stood there avoiding his gaze.

“Daryl.”

For the life of him, Daryl couldn’t avoid obeying the inherent order and plea in Rick’s voice and he looked up to see Rick holding out an arm in his direction. He knew what he meant by the gesture and wasn’t entirely sure he would be able to hold himself together if he took him up on it, but Rick was the one person who wouldn’t judge him for whatever happened. Daryl was a raw nerve and he accepted that this was the one thing that could salve his wounds.

Daryl gingerly walked into Rick’s welcoming arms that wrapped around him as soon as he was within reach. Getting hugged was not something that Daryl was used to, but he melted into it when one of Rick’s hands started carding soothingly through his hair. He buried himself in the crook of Rick’s neck to take in his distinct scent for perhaps the last time.

“Stay with me till morning.”

_Where else was I going to go? Go inside and sleep while you were left to die out here alone? No way. I love you and I want to be with you until the end._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, come at me on my Tumblr, [mycroft-silently-judges-you](http://mycroft-silently-judges-you.tumblr.com), if you have a prompt from the Sine Metu Vive series you would like to see or leave it in your comments here.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
